Playing family
by nattbarn
Summary: When Iroh was crowned Fire Lord, he did not expect that the first major issue he had to deal with would be his brother confessing to treason and murder. AU
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. This is written for fun only.

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><p>Iroh had expected to come home to a quiet, dark, grieving home. After all, that was how things should be, after the death of the head of the family. After the death of the Fire Lord. It was only proper.<p>

The chaos that greeted him was not. Oh, perhaps no one else would notice, their servants were exceptionally well trained, but to him it was obvious that things were not right. The servants didn't seem to know what to do with themselves, half the palace didn't seem to have been cleaned, and so many things were simply out of place.

His brother, who should have greeted him at his arrival, was nowhere to be seen. Neither was his sister-in-law, who should have been there if Ozai was unavailable. Considering the circumstances, it would have been understandable that Ozai had other matters to attend to.

This was not. This was an insult. Even now, after the defeat at Ba Sing Se, after vanishing for weeks after that defeat, this was in insult. As Crown Prince, he should have been greeted.

A deep breath, and Iroh pushed the anger down. It had been a trying few weeks. His temper was not quite under his control. He had lost his son, and the visions the spirits had granted him... and now he had lost his father. Coming home to this was not what he had hoped for.

But he was not the only one to have lost a father. Ozai had too. Perhaps he shouldn't be so hard on him. Even though, he had to admit he would never have expected Ozai to react strongly enough to their father's death to allow the palace to fall into disarray.

He waved a servant over to him. "Where is my brother?"

The servant blinked, as if he hadn't noticed him, then glanced around. "Er... I think he is in his room. My Lord."

The last was added almost as an afterthought, which said a lot about the state of the palace. Iroh frowned. This was not tolerable. If an assassin truly had reached Azulon, as the reports claimed, and he had no reason to doubt them, then it was important to appear strong.

"Get this place cleaned up," Iroh ordered, using the same tone he used on his soldiers. "I expect it to be presentable by morning."

"Yes, my Lord," the servant said, practically tripping over his own feet to get away from him.

Iroh watched him leave. It seemed he had no other choice than to go see his brother. The message he had received had said that the funeral would be as soon as Iroh returned, provided he did so in a reasonable amount of time. There were limits to how long you could wait even for the Crown Prince when a dead body was involved after all. It was a good thing he had already been on his way home.

Walking through the palace, the first impression didn't improve. When he reached Ozai's wing, even the children's' toys had apparently been left lying where they'd been dropped. Odd. Ursa had never permitted their children to be careless with their things.

Worried now, Iroh headed towards the main room. The door was closed, and he knocked carefully. He didn't want to wake anyone. When no one answered, he reached for the handle, the door opening easily.

Slowly, he opened the door, and peered inside. He couldn't help but feel relieved at the sight of the family sleeping on the bed. All four of them, which made his eyebrows rise. Iroh had been aware of the tensions running through that family, between sister and brother, wife and husband, parent and child.

Now, you'd never know that they had existed. They looked so peaceful, even though both Ozai and Ursa looked like they desperately need the sleep.

Iroh stepped back out, closing the door again. The matters of the palace could wait.

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><p>The next morning, Iroh felt both calmer than the previous day, and a lot more awake. He had already made arrangements to greet his brother and family at breakfast, sitting there when they arrived.<p>

Their reactions where not _quite_what he expected. Zuko was thrilled, literally held back when he tried to go to him, Azula perfectly polite. Perfectly normal. Ozai and Ursa on the other hand, quickly exchanged glances, both paling at the sight of him, before greeting him as they should, complete with apologies for not meeting him the previous night.

"We were simply exhausted," Ozai said quietly, after the meal, not really looking at him. He'd spent most of the meal watching the children, especially Zuko.

Iroh tried not to frown. One did not have to know his brother to realize that something was very wrong. Ozai was not the affectionate kind of man. Not the type to watch his children constantly, unless there was very good reason to do so. But when he tried to ask, Ozai just shook his head.

"After the funeral," he said.

During the funeral, Iroh forgot about his brother's issues. During the funeral, Ozai acted just as a younger prince should, keeping his children out of trouble, not that it was truly necessary, and accepting condolences gracefully. Ursa did the same.

During the crowning ceremony, Ozai bowed with the rest. No challenge. Not that he'd expected it, not truly, but in all honesty, he didn't know his brother well enough to be sure. Ozai was so much younger, a surprise to all when their mother had realized she was pregnant again. And he was ambitious, that much Iroh knew.

It felt good to have that worry put to rest.

Besides, following that thought, at least, Ozai would never have to worry about having two heirs. Or, perhaps... with Lu Ten dead, something had to be done. No matter how much it hurt.

No. That would be Iroh's decision. Iroh's alone.

Then it was more ceremonies, and giving tribute to the spirits, and Agni himself. Something in the fire, during that last one, felt... comfortable. Iroh wondered if this was what his father had felt when he was crowned.

Even so, when it was over, when he could go and hide in his rooms, after sending the last guest away to their own homes... now that was true relief. A soft bed, a quiet room.

Bliss.

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><p>He wasn't entirely surprised when Ozai requested an private audience. They had much they needed to discuss, starting with Ozai's odd behaviour. His and Ursa's, actually. While they had never been close, age and distance were to blame for that, things had never been so awkward as they had been over the last few days.<p>

When Ozai entered the throne room, Iroh immediately dismissed the servants. The doors closed behind them as Ozai knelt. When he moved to a sitting position, he still didn't quite look Iroh in the eye.

"I," Ozai started, then hesitated, before taking a breath and continuing. "I am here to confess."

"Confess?" the word was out before Iroh could stop it.

Now, Ozai met his eyes, for the first time since he returned. "Yes. First, to a break of trust. Second, to a crime."

Iroh had no idea what to say. A break of trust was one thing, but his brother committing a crime great enough to be brought before the Fire Lord like this? It was unthinkable. And right now? Now that he was going to need all the support he could get? Now that the royal family needed to be perfect?

"Confess," was all he said.

Another deep breath. "First. I know you well enough to know that you will not take another wife. Not have another heir," and again Ozai met his eyes. This time, cold and stubborn, the brother Iroh knew. "I talked with our father. I claimed that you were unfit to be Fire Lord because of those reasons."

Cold. Iroh felt cold, despite the flames around him growing higher by the second, realizing what his brother was saying. _A break of trust_indeed. It was tempting to let the fire burn, as it wanted to.

But he was the Fire Lord, and if his plans were going to work he could not start by burning his brother to ashes. Nor did he want to, because even in the middle of his rage, he realized that Ozai was correct. Had he not considered that very problem a few days earlier?

Iroh wrestled the rage down. "Continue."

Ozai almost flinched at his tone. Iroh didn't care.

"First leads to second," Ozai continued, and now he looked away. Looked down, to Iroh's surprise. Clenched his hands. "Our father was angry, as expected. But-" his voice nearly broke. "-what he demanded from me was not."

Silence. Ozai seemed to have trouble finding the correct words, but Iroh was not willing to offer him any help. Not with this.

"He demanded," Ozai finally continued, tone flat. "That if I were to be Fire Lord, I would only do so if I knew your pain. Of losing a firstborn."

The flames around Iroh grew higher again, from shock.

"He ordered it," Ozai didn't stop, now that he had gathered his courage. "For the insult of asking, for bringing the truth to his attention, he ordered me to kill my son," for the third time, Ozai met his eyes. "Or see it happen by someone else's hand."

Then he looked away again, but kept talking. "No one else was there when he gave his orders. Someone was going to die," voice quiet now. "I preferred it to be Azulon."

Iroh had no words. He could barely breathe.

Ozai was looking at his hands, but his voice was steady. "There was no assassin. I killed Fire Lord Azulon. Our father. I am a traitor and a kin-slayer, and I accept whatever punishment you see fit to give me."

The flames around the throne died.

Ozai tensed, didn't look up, and Iroh felt trapped. His father, murdered by his own son. By Ozai. And now, now Ozai expected him to render judgment? As if there were options for one who committed treason, one who _murdered the Fire Lord_. Ozai expected him to condemn yet another family member to death? To-

Ozai found his voice again. "Ursa didn't know. Not until the morning after. All I ask is that you leave her and the children out of it. They didn't know."

The children. Iroh forced anger back, and down. For now.

"Get out," he said. He needed Ozai gone, before he did something he shouldn't. When he hurt his brother, it was going to be deliberate, _not_an uncontrolled outburst of anger. "To your chambers. You will stay there."

Ozai left. As quickly as he could, without actually running. The door slammed shut behind him, and the dead fires sprung back into life, spreading across the room, leaving ashes in it's wake. Some of those decorations had been there for decades.

Another time, a few weeks earlier, Iroh would have struck Ozai down, without hesitation. Now... his visions, his son...

_Lu Ten._

The anger shrank. Killing their father for his son? Iroh thought he would have done the same. If he had to.

Unless Ozai was lying.

He had to think about this. Somewhere else. Leaving the throne room behind, he went to his chambers. The small table, with it's single candle was exactly as he'd left it. Good.

Iroh knelt down, and pinched the wick. The candle lit, he focused his energy on it, tuning the little flame to his breathing. In and out. Bigger and smaller. His mind calmed.

_Now, think._

Azulon was dead. An assassin would have had a very difficult, if not impossible, time getting into the palace.

Ozai could walk the palace freely. It was his right, and none would question it.

It was possible, Iroh had to admit. He could have done it. Not that there had been much doubt in the first place. If he had not done it, Ozai would never have confessed to such a crime if he hadn't done it. It was vaguely surprising that he had confessed at all, when it had been deemed an assassins work.

The candle's flame wavered, and Iroh calmed himself again.

Ozai had asked for Iroh's throne, and angered the Fire Lord. But. He had been right. His arguments, as presented to Iroh, had been absolutely correct. There would be no new heirs.

The admission hurt. That Ozai had been right to ask, it hurt. It also fit with the brother Iroh knew. Ambitious, wanting his nation to grow in power.

Even so, it was a break of trust, like Ozai had confessed to.

He couldn't focus on that now.

In order to punish Ozai for asking, Azulon had ordered Zuko dead. And Ozai had fought back. Landed the first, final blow.

It... made sense. Ozai was both cold, and calculating enough to do so, if he deemed it necessary. And Iroh did not, could not, fault him for considering the life of his son to be more worth than the father who ordered his death.

Iroh would have done the same. And, for all that he loved his father, he had no doubt that Azulon was capable of giving such an order.

Then, Ozai had done what was right. Iroh carried the crown. Ozai confessed to a crime that he would die for. He could have kept quiet. He hadn't. All he had done, was to ask that his family was left alone.

He had thought earlier that Ozai might be lying, but looking at the situation... it was stupid. Ozai would gain nothing from confessing. It was a lose-lose situation for him.

He was telling the truth.

Breathing out, Iroh considered what he'd do now.

It took a very long time to decide.

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><p>Ursa was expecting him, ready with tea. She didn't say a word as she served it, not until she was kneeling down with her own cup.<p>

"If he hadn't done it, I would have," Ursa said flatly. "As soon as he told me what he had done, I knew I would have."

"One might say it was his fault the situation came to be," Iroh said smoothly. Curious to her reaction.

"A lesser woman might," Ursa's voice was cold. "I have been taught quite a lot about what it takes to keep this nation together. Ozai was not incorrect to do what he did. He moved to soon, yes, before Tu Len's spirit can be said to rest. Far too soon. But our branch of the family lives, and yours will die with you."

Iroh took a sip of his tea, forcing the anger down. He seemed to be doing a lot of that these days. By the time this mess was sorted out, he would probably be the only one in the Fire Nation to never lose his temper again.

"I am sorry," Ursa finished, voice softening. "It was not an easy decision for him. No matter what you, or anyone else thinks."

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><p>Dealing with the children were far easier, and it soothed his heart to see them play together.<p>

He did notice that Zuko didn't have any friends of his own over, but when he noticed the constant glances between the boy, and the girl, Mai... well. That was not the sort of thing any young boy wanted his friends to notice.

Azula seemed perfectly content to play with Ty Lee. Or train with her, since the two apparently were one and the same to those two girls.

Though, they were both a bit more observant than he had hoped.

"Why'd you ground dad?" Zuko asked, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Did he do something wrong?"

"Zuzu! That's rude," Azula hissed, elbowing her brother. Then looked at Iroh. She couldn't pull off innocent at her brother's level. "Why did you ground dad?"

"Ah," how to explain that?

"Is, is this because grandfather said dad had to kill me?" Zuko asked, looking heartbroken. It made Iroh want to pick him up, and shelter him from everything. "Because dad didn't do anything!"

What?

"What?" Iroh sat up straight, startled. "Where did you get such an idea?"

Azula fidgeted. Just a little bit. "I heard grandfather say it."

"...You were spying on them," Iroh said flatly.

The two exchanged glances. "Yes."

The answer came from both, but Zuko looked far more ashamed than his sister. She looked stubborn.

"I see," Iroh sighed, sorting out his thoughts. "No, that is not why. It has nothing to do with that," this was not a lie he was going to regret. "Your father loves you both, and would never do such a thing. The reason is, well, political."

Zuko looked confused.

"Two heirs can be trouble, Zuzu," Azula said, condescendingly. "Uncle Iroh is making sure everyone knows he's in charge."

She didn't sound happy about it.

"So, it's just for a little while?" Zuko asked, hopeful.

"Yes," Iroh said. "No, go back to your games."

And if they were a bit more subdued than what he remembered from his infrequent visits, that was only to be expected.

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><p>"Prince Ozai," he said, entering Ozai's chambers without knocking. He was Fire Lord, he didn't have to. Even if it would have been polite.<p>

Ozai stood, the meditation candle's flame dying. He didn't speak. Surprising, considering it had been days since their last meeting.

"I have considered your crime," Iroh waited for an answer, and got nothing. Just a calm, steady gaze that would have fooled anyone who hadn't grown up with the man.

"Treason only has one sentence," Iroh said. Paused. Waited.

This time, Ozai broke first. "I have already said that I'll accept any punishment."

"Yes," Iroh's voice cut like steel. "Sit."

He motioned to the small table in the middle of Ozai chamber's. Ordering his brother around in his own rooms was slightly rude, and on any other occasion Ozai would have refused the order.

Now, he knelt down by the table, watching Iroh like he expected a fireblast any second. Iroh ignored him, and started making tea. The wait wasn't just to be cruel. .

Handing a cup over to Ozai, who accepted it on what looked like sheer reflex, he knelt on the other side of the table, so they were face to face.

"Where is Ursa?" he asked.

"With the children," Ozai answered, turning the cup in his hands.

"I want," Iroh said quietly, a calm fire before the wind comes. "An explanation. Your reasons. Now. What you told me is not good enough."

Ozai glanced at him, then sighed. Put the right words together. "When you broke the siege, after Lu Ten's death, I thought you weak. Unfit to lead our nation to greatness. When you vanished for weeks, I considered you weakness to be confirmed. And with no heirs, unwilling to take another wife..." he looked down. "I did what I thought necessary."

Iroh refused to speak. He just waited.

"I thought you weak," Ozai repeated. "Right up until the moment Azulon ordered my son _dead_."

"I thought you favored Azula?" Iroh said, wincing as he said it. A low blow.

Ozai glared. A much more familiar expression that the careful blankness. "I did. Do. Azula is... a prodigy. Watch her lessons, brother. Any of them, and you'll see. While Zuko... Zuko is not. Zuko is passable," he paused. "Ursa and I have spoken a lot, over the last few days. She disagrees."

Of course she did, Iroh thought.

"She believes Zuko only needs more time. She also," Ozai took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. "Believes that there is something _wrong_with Azula," his eyes never left the cup in his hands. "I see nothing wrong with Azula. But Ursa is my beloved wife, a fact I have ignored too often lately. If she says something is wrong..."

Ozai trailed off, leaving the words hanging.

Iroh felt pleased. Which was insane, Ozai had murdered their father.

A father he had never been particularly close to. The father he knew would have dealt a severe punishment to Iroh himself, if he had been alive when Iroh returned from his grief fueled trip. A father who was willing to see his own grandson dead for the father's crimes. Crimes that weren't really crimes.

But. This was Ozai. Cold, calculating, never hesitant to strike down those deemed enemies, no matter who they had been before that. The man who so clearly favored one child over the other.

There were times, when Iroh had wondered if his brother had any limits when it came to getting what he wanted.

"I would do it again," Ozai snarled, eyes blazing. So unusual for him. His eyes resembled the cold fire, more than the warm one. "Zuko is weak. But he is _mine!_"

Iroh realized he was smiling. He quickly took a sip of his tea to hide it. Too late, of course, Ozai wasn't blind.

As evidenced by the glare he was directing at Iroh. It was not the first time Iroh had been relieved that setting things on fire with your eyes was impossible.

"_Why are you smiling?_"

Oh, yes, they had a lot to discuss. What to do about the war. How to deal with it. Ozai would not like what Iroh had already decided, but at least now he could be trusted not to go against him.

"We have much to discuss," Iroh said levelly. Ozai kept glaring, mouth a thin line. "Your wife and children are safe. And, in light of the situation, so are you."

Oh, the wide eyed shock on his brother's face. Iroh wished he could have had that painted. And framed, and hung right in the entrance hall for good measure. It would serve Ozai right.

"Azulon died by an assassin's hand," he continued, serious again. "Sit down, brother."

Ozai did, picking up his teacup again. Clearly he needed to keep his hands busy.

"We will continue as normal. Though, I suggest you do not cross me again," a warning that Iroh thought was unecessary, but it certainly couldn't hurt.

"I see," Ozai said, looking rather like he thought Iroh had lost his mind.

Well. That was just too tempting an opportunity to pass up. Even now.

"Tell me," Iroh said cheerfully. "What are your thoughts on ending the war now?"

Ozai broke the cup.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The last Airbender. This is written for fun only.

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><p>"Why didn't you do what grandfather wanted?"<p>

He'd just finished yet another argument with Ursa. In the end, she'd screamed at him, so furious he couldn't understand what she was saying, and then she'd stormed out.

And now Azula was standing right in front of him, had walked up while he'd been lost in thought. She looked impatient. Angry. Not like herself. Much like he felt.

The distraction was welcome.

"Is it not obvious?" Ozai asked, mildly curious to see what she made of it. Perhaps it would help him understand what Ursa meant, what made her worry so much about their daughter, and not their son.

Azula thought. "No," she said with finality. "It's not. You could have been Fire Lord, and gotten rid of all the weak links at the same time."

"Are you sure of that?" he asked, not overly concerned with her assumptions. Azula was young. There were many things she had yet to learn, such as what could be done, and what shouldn't be done. No matter the cause.

Another long pause, before she answered. "Yes."

It wasn't the answer itself that made him kneel down in front of her, to look her in the eye. It was the tone, the finality in it.

"Azula," he said, not harshly, but the tone wasn't the one he normally used on her. "Zuko is my son. Mine. That means he is mine to protect," he paused, trying to word it so she'd see his reasons. He was looking forward to the day when mere age wouldn't keep her from understanding. "A lord takes care of his people. He has to, unless he wants to get deposed."

"I know, father," Azula said, eyes narrow. "But that's everyone, not just Zuko."

"I assure you," he said wryly. "If the people learned that their Fire Lord sacrificed one of his children, they would start doubting his willingness to protect them. They'd hesitate to serve him. I would have failed before I began, and that is unacceptable."

Azula's hands turned into angry fists. If she had been looking at anyone else, Ozai was sure she would have been glaring. He had thought she wanted the reasons behind his decision. She should have been pleased that he brother was safe.

"You're just like Uncle Iroh," Azula blurted out. "You almost had it, and you just quit!"

Ozai stood, frowning. "Do not take that tone with me."

She fell silent, but the look was decidedly disrespectful.

"You have lessons," he said harshly. "Go to them, and consider my words. Now."

"Yes, father," she said, gave a quick bow, and came as close as she dared to storm out as she left.

Ozai stood staring at the door, considering. The entire meeting had been... nothing truly out of the ordinary, he realized. They had had many similar discussions, though they had all been more general, had had nothing to do with something so personal.

Still. She was young. She'd learn, he had. In the meantime being less than sentimental wouldn't hurt her.

"You still don't see it," Ursa's tone was tired, and sad.

He forced himself to stand still as she stepped out from one of the hidden entrances. One Ozai could have sworn had been locked earlier.

"She shouldn't talk like that. Not about her brother. Not about her family." Ursa sounded calmer than earlier, but there were definite signs of the anger burning beneath the surface.

"She wanted to hear my reasons, that's all," Ozai said. Azula had focus, drive and skill. There was nothing wrong with that.

Ursa threw her hands up, sparks at her fingertips. "She did not. Have you listened to anything I have said?" she practically snarled, stalking over to him, shoving a finger to his chest. Out of patience. "She wanted to know why you didn't kill. Her. Brother. She wasn't sad. She was angry you didn't. She doesn't care."

Ozai glared right back. "I have heard every word. And all I see is that she resembles me."

Ursa grabbed his wrists, forcing his hands together, holding them tight to her chest. "She does."

..._Oh_.

Fire was impulsive. Fire did what it wanted, that was why they had formality and customs hammered through their head until they knew it all by heart, did it out of habit, and he _still_ didn't notice that he'd tried to leave before Ursa took him down, laid him flat on his back in the middle of his own chambers.

"Will you listen?" she said, sounding more frustrated than he could remember hearing her in ages.

"Listen," he chuckled darkly. "My wife thinks me a monster."

She slashed a smoking hand through the air, directly above his head. "No! _Never_ think that."

Ozai stared up at her. Ursa's hair was falling out of it's topknot, creating a messy frame for her face. Golden eyes were glinting down at him, the sheer fury in them keeping him from fighting back, with words or otherwise.

"I have watched," she said. "As you perform your duties much more harshly than necessary. As you turn more and more towards easy cruelties, I have_ watched_. And I have _stayed_. Second Prince or not, no power in the world could have held me here if I believed you a monster. The children and I would have been _gone_."

Ozai just stared.

"You are not a kind man," Ursa continued. "And I have worried, but not feared," she leaned down, so close that their noses brushed. "You proved me right. You said here, but no further."

She sat back up, mouth a thin line. "When something is wrong with everyone else, take a good look at yourself. Consider my words, husband."

"I have done little else these past few days," Ozai responded, suddenly very tired of this conversation.

"Then do it again," Ursa said, as if it was that simple. "And try do act accordingly."

* * *

><p>Maybe it was, he realized, long after Ursa had picked herself up from the floor, picked up the hairpiece she'd come back for, and left again.<p>

* * *

><p>The garden was always quiet at this time of night. As quiet as it could be in the middle of a city, but compared to the palace, with all it's servants and other people. Not that he'd seen much of anyone over the last few days. He had been left alone to think, the exception being Ursa.<p>

Apparently everyone else had been told he was ill. That Ursa was the one taking care of him, on her own insistence. Clever really, to not let anyone know about the rift in the family.

Especially now, with Iroh determined to follow through with his ridiculous plan.

Ending the war.

Ozai was half convinced it would end in disaster. Mostly for everyone else, if any of the other nations had had the skill and power necessary to fight back they would have done so a long time ago, but he rather disliked the thought of taking losses to them.

Breathing out, he abandoned that train of thought. It was not why he had decided to risk Iroh's wrath. Reconsidering Ursa's words.

He had. Several times. The conclusion he reached had not been an enjoyable one, nor had it been particularly difficult to accept either. Though, if not for Ursa's certainty earlier... he wasn't entirely sure how he would have reacted.

That felt worse. Almost as bad as when he'd thought he knew what she was saying.

The entire mess almost made him wish he'd never spoken with Azulon. That he'd never had to know all these things, about himself, about his daughter.

How close he'd come to losing Ursa.

No matter what she said, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd come closer to that than she claimed. And she would lie, if only to spare his feelings. After all, if she stayed, he never needed to know how close-

Something... something had to change.

"I do not believe I've lifted your house arrest," Iroh said, from right behind him.

"I am aware," Ozai replied, not flinching in surprise, and definitely not moving his hands just a little bit to set the man on fire. He moved to stand, assuming he'd be sent back to his chambers, too tired to argue.

Iroh just smiled. "I suppose it's lasted long enough."

Iroh sat down, using Ozai's shoulder as a completely unnecessary support. It did, Ozai noted, keep him from actually getting up, though.

Ozai tensed. "I suppose," he echoed carefully.

"I have sent messengers to every nation," Iroh said, folding his hands in his lap, staring down into the pond. "So far, none have answered."

He fell quiet.

"The Earth Kingdom will be stubborn," Ozai said eventually, sensing he was supposed to participate in this conversation, rather than simply listening to Iroh speak mostly to himself, as he had done since his confession.

"But the Water Tribes will accept," Iroh mused. "Water adapts, and this is the best course. Especially for the Southern Tribe."

"They're practically destroyed," Ozai objected. "It might make no difference for them, and unlike the Northern Tribe, they fight. The Ocean isn't easily stopped."

"I have studied both Water Tribes," Iroh gave him a hard stare. "Chief Hakoda is reasonable."

Ozai bit back the incredulous _reasonable barbarians,_ opting for a sarcastic; "So it's just the Northern Tribe, and the majority of the Earth Kingdom that's going to be a problem?"

"I doubt the Northern will be a problem. They have stayed out of the war for 80 years, and doesn't seem eager to join in," Iroh shrugged, suddenly chuckling. His shifting mood was getting on Ozai's nerves. "Provided my messengers find them."

"Provided your messengers survive meeting them," Ozai muttered.

"Stop that," Iroh ordered, still chuckling. "They are a harsh people, but they respect tradition. Hearing out messengers is a very old one."

"You are taking this too lightly," Ozai hissed. "Why would they hear out what any messenger of ours have to say? Why would they not take this as a chance to extract revenge? Why would any of them?"

"Is that what you would have done?" Iroh asked, not looking at him.

_Yes. _

If he and his had been the ones attacked, if his people were the ones forced to run for almost a century to escape death at the hands of a conqueror... he would have. Not immediately, but as soon as he thought it would work, then he'd take revenge. Burn them to the ground.

"I see," Iroh nodded to himself. He sounded sad. "I had hoped the last few days would have given you time to think-"

"I have thought," Ozai snarled. "I have done nothing else. Considered Ursa's words. Yours. My _childrens', _even. And to what conclusion?" it was almost funny. "Apparently, _Zuko_ isn't weak, or slow. He is _normal_. _Azula_ is the one there's something wrong with."

The grass beneath his hands turned black, crumbling into ashes.

"Guilt," Iroh said, sounding... Ozai didn't know what he sounded like, but it grated. "My apologies, brother. You have been thinking."

"No, really," Ozai glared. With Azulon, that would truly have been pushing it after that outburst.

With Iroh... There was a reason he had dared confess his crime without fearing for his family.

Himself was another matter entirely. Iroh was patient.

Iroh raised an eyebrow, looking quite grim. Once upon a time, that would have made Ozai back down, maybe apologize. But not now, titles and twenty years age difference be damned.

"I do not like your plan," he continued. "It will mean withdrawing from the Earth Kingdom, possibly dragging home people who may have lived there their entire lives. It will mean being in the same room as people we've tried to conquer or outright kill for the last century. It will mean severely upsetting people here. You are putting us all in danger from everything from terrorists to assassins to outright rebellions."

Ozai turned his head, and looked Iroh straight in the eyes. "I do not like your plan, brother. However, I will support you. I made that decision when I ki-"

He did not expect Iroh to slap a hand across his mouth, hard enough to hurt. Iroh looked around quickly, before frowning at him.

"Do not speak of such things here," he said, sounding very, very exasperated. "How can you think so clearly about one thing, yet be so completely unable to realize the consequences of another? What if someone had heard you?"

Ozai tried to speak, but it was muffled by Iroh's hand. Grabbing Iroh's wrist with his own hand, he dragged it aside. "There is no one here."

"There could have been," Iroh growled. "You can never be certain where the wind will carry your words."

"How poetic," Ozai said, rubbing his chin.

"Poetry hides many truths," Iroh threw back. "_You shared secrets, and so made me part, of a web of lies_."

"... I've heard better," Ozai said, confused, not entirely sure if Iroh was simply quoting, or whether the poem had the double meaning Ozai heard. This was the reason he disliked most of the conversations he had with Iroh. His brother so rarely said anything straight out. Everything was wrapped in metaphors and proverbs.

"Ah," Iroh sighed. "I am sure. But not something quite so honest, I think. Amateur poetry is truly honest."

"Or pretentious," Ozai gritted his teeth. World be damned before he _asked_ for a straight answer.

Iroh just sighed again, dipping his fingers in the water. Frowned. "When the messengers return, I want you to be there. I would like to hear your opinion on certain matters."

"The Earth generals," Ozai guessed. He had read the reports. Some of those generals were ruthless, knew exactly how they preferred their enemies. Not defeated, or retreating, but dead. A few had no issues with harming civilians, if they thought it necessary for the greater good

Good generals to have around in wartime. Perhaps not so good when one was trying to create lasting peace.

"Correct," Iroh nodded. "But the rest as well. We have different viewpoints, Ozai. That is a very useful thing to have, if we use it well."

"I will serve, my Lord," Ozai said. He had sworn to himself he would, the traditional words slipped past his lips without needing thought.

Ozai could only feel confused as Iroh gave him a look filled with pure exasperation.

* * *

><p>He returned to his chambers, long after Iroh had left, checking on the children along the way. Both of them were asleep, though unusually Azula's room was a mess.<p>

Ozai watched her sleep, wondering if she truly had taken their conversation that hard. It was still difficult to think less of her.

Zuko was curled up with a stuffed toy of some kind. Ozai just shook his head at that. The boys should have been over that stage by now. Azula was.

Ursa was asleep in his bed when he returned.

He brushed her hair out of her face before falling asleep.

* * *

><p>"Dad?" Zuko looked like he couldn't decide whether he should run and hide, or stand his ground.<p>

Ozai put the paperwork down. "Yes, boy?"

"Are, are you okay?" Zuko fidgeted, looking everywhere but him. "I mean, everyone was acting so weird, and not even Azula gets why, and you and mom keep fighting, and mom says everything is fine, but-"

"Zuko," Ozai interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. This boy. "If your mother says everything is fine, then why are you here bothering me?"

Zuko shrank in on himself. "Because... because she doesn't seem fine! No one does!"

Ozai looked at the boy, surprised. Zuko never had outbursts around him, always awkward and quiet and annoying.

The first tantrum would be because of Ursa. If you could call this a tantrum, which he somehow doubted.

Zuko stared back at him, looking ready to bolt at the first sign of Ozai reacting.

Ozai moved, deliberatly quick. Zuko practically jumped, but stood his ground. Staring.

Definitely for Ursa.

"Zuko," he said. "There is nothing you need to worry about. Do not doubt your mother like this."

Zuko's eyes looked just a little bit brighter. "Yes, father."

* * *

><p>"Azula," he said, stepping in to her rooms much later that day. "I hope you have considered my words?"<p>

"I have, father," Azula wasn't quite glaring at him, but it was close. "I still don't understand."

Ozai recognised that tone. It was the frustrated, angry one she always used when she didn't get something right. More so because she had to admit it. When it wasn't pretty, and perfect, the way she wanted it.

He understood that.

Ozai studied her. "It is not an easy thing to understand."

A bit of the familiar gleam returned to her eyes, as she moved to sit next to him. "It isn't?"

"No."

* * *

><p>"This is difficult," he told Ursa.<p>

"I know," she said, smiling.


	3. Interlude

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The last Airbender. This is written for fun only.

* * *

><p>Ursa smiled as Iroh entered the courtyard. She knew perfectly well he had given up on actually working hours ago, and had only stayed in his office for appearances sake. It wouldn't do for the Fire Lord to appear lazy, not now.<p>

Her dear husband agreed, his expression irritated and judging as he too, noticed his brother.

"Hush," she scolded, taking his hand, forcing him to stay seated next to her. She would not have an argument interrupting her peaceful afternoon. "He works hard. Don't blame him for being more focused on the war than the Nation itself."

"The replies are still days away, even with the fastest messengers," Ozai said, but expression softening a little anyway.

Good. Ursa had hoped for such an reaction. Though, if he wasn't going to let it go immediately, she might as well go along with it. "I wonder what they will be like."

"Yes, please end it," Ozai deadpanned, in a fairly decent Earth Kingdom accent. Ursa grinned in surprise at that. "How else are they going to react? We are winning. We have been winning for the last fifty years."

There it was. That well concealed bitterness, and disagreement. She had been expecting it, had been waiting for it. Now to disarm it, before it took hold of her husband again, destroying them all.

She sincerely wished she was being over-dramatic with that thought. Sometimes she wished she didn't know better.

Ursa chuckled, running her fingers through his hair. It was one of her favorite things about him. "We were winning," she agreed. "And we have been mining the land for a long time. Rivers have become useless. Forests have died. This," she waved her hand. A meaningless gesture in itself, but Ozai would understand."- is a good thing."

He looked at her, considering. Not ignoring her words, maybe even her, as he would have mere weeks earlier. She approved of this change, hard won as it had been. Even the children were happier, if very confused at the sudden change in their father. And her own obvious joy might have had something to do with it as well.

Ursa hoped that with time, the change would be more natural one. As it was, Ozai's attempt at being a good father wasn't exactly clumsy, but still too intense. It was as if he had read the book, but not quite understood it.

It amused her, and pleased her. And she'd be damned before she let it become a temporary thing.

"Our people first," she reminded him, casting an innocent glance towards their two playing children. Actually playing for once, rather than Azula making a mockery of her brother.

Ozai followed her eyes, and she could practically pin-point the moment he relented, let the subject go. He relaxed, and breathed out slowly, eyes still on Azula and Zuko.

Ursa smirked to herself, and leaned into her husband, a slightly heavy reminder of what he stood to lose should he stray from the current path.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. This is written for fun only.

* * *

><p>"You two will behave," Ozai said, not at all expecting them to do so. The two of them had been nightmares over the last few day, as if they were two years old again. The only reason he had agreed to this outing was because Ursa had insisted that it would be good for them to get out of the palace, away from nervous governors and ministers.<p>

"Yes, dad," the two chorused, Zuko grinning, Azula merely smiling. They were dressed for a day outside, playing, looking eager to go already. Most likely for different reasons, but at least they wanted to get out.

It was more than he could say for himself.

Ursa smiled prettily at him, and waved before disappearing back into her chamber. He was not quite as mad at her as he should be, if only because she did have a legitimate excuse for not joining them.

"Yes, we're leaving," he said to the two impatient children staring up at him. "We'll be walking, it's not far."

Actually, they'd be walking because Ozai refused to be stuck inside a carriage with the two of them, not even for the short amount of time it would take to get there. Azula kept shifting around, and he wasn't going to think about Zuko.

Luckily for his sanity, it was very common for people to walk to this festival. It was part of the tradition, really, even if it had started to fall out of use during the war, with people spread out over such a large area.

"Behave," he repeated as they stepped outside, one child on each side of him. This time they didn't answer, already staring at the steady stream of people heading towards the festival area.

Ozai recognised more than one of them, several with their own children in tow. With one or two exceptions, all of them were just as eager as Zuko if not more so. There were also several, mostly slightly older children, that acted like Azula.

Good. At least that was normal.

He forced himself not to frown. It was more than a little irritating to keep doing these comparisons every time he had to do something with his children. Teach Azula something new, watch and compare her reactions to other's. Same with Zuko.

Sometimes, he almost regretted starting this mess.

* * *

><p>The festival was just as he remembered from last year. Loud, bright, filled with a combination of smells that often bordered on too much, and vendors selling less than quality products, but no one caring because that's how it was supposed to be.<p>

"Can I have a mask?" Zuko asked, pointing to a blue one. It was oval shaped, with half moon eyes, and a mouth filled with fangs. Hideous.

"No," Ozai said. More than anything, it was a reflex answer.

Zuko's face fell. Azula smiled.

Ozai realized with a bit back sigh that that might not have been the right answer. However, he was not about to back down, not when he had already said no.

"Zuko," he said, trying to sound not irritated. "What would you do with that mask?"

"Wear it," Zuko mumbled, looking away.

"Don't mumble," Ozai said sharply. "For how long?"

"Uh," Zuko barely avoided shrugging.

"For today," Azula threw in. "And then put it away and forget about it. If you don't break it sometimes today, you are kind of a klutz."

Ozai ignored her. "Exactly. Don't buy useless things you're only going to care about for a few hours."

There. Zuko had an explanation for why he was told 'no'. That should do.

He missed Zuko's expression, and Azula's gleeful grin as she looked at her brother.

He did pick up on the whispered 'dum-dum', but decided to ignore that too. They always bickered like that, much like he and Iroh had. Like every other pair of siblings he knew had.

"Father, I want to see the circus performance," Azula said, pointing in the direction of a large colourful tent.

Ozai considered. In the capital, a circus would consist mostly of human performers. A few animals, yes, but it was too dangerous to bring the larger animals into a large city. Most likely, this meant jugglers, line performers, simple magicians, but there was the possibility of some with real skill. Some circuses specialized in human performers.

"Alright," he said. "Come Zuko."

"I want to see the storyteller," Zuko said, sounding a lot like he was sulking. "Azula just wants to brag to Ty Lee about going to the circus later."

Ozai was not dealing with one of his tantrums, not now and not in public. He snagged a flyer from the nearest stall, and read it quickly. He didn't quite sigh in relief when it turned out that the storyteller performed more than once.

"We will see him later," he said firmly. "There is more than enough time for both activities."

Thank Agni.

"...Okay," Zuko agreed, still sulking, but as far as Ozai could tell, also pleased.

* * *

><p>It turned out that the circus had simply left out their animal acts, but the performers were still skilled enough to entertain the youngest children. Which mean that Azula and Zuko were vaguely interested, but not enough to be quiet.<p>

"He's not very good," Zuko said critically, giving the firebender in the ring a doubtful look.

"Better than you," Azula threw back. "Not that it takes much. Dum-dum."

"Shut up!"

"Make me."

"Be quiet, both of you," Ozai hissed. "Azula, you wanted to watch this, now watch it."

"Yes, father," Azula said.

"Yes, dad," Zuko agreed.

Ozai took his eyes of the ring, and looked at the two of them instead. Azula looked artfully bored, while Zuko was just bored.

He frowned. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to go. Bored children turned into restless children, and restless children became loud and embarrassing. Admittedly, looking around, that seemed like a fairly normal thing, but it was not something he wanted to deal with.

Nor, and he wasn't happy to admit to it, was he sure he could handle that without destroying what little progress he had made over the last weeks.

It rankled to admit it. Weeks of attempting to grasp what apparently came naturally to everyone else, and it still slipped through his fingers like water. Weeks of trying to sort out what Ursa meant when she said he was hurting Zuko. Why Azula suddenly seemed... darker than before.

If Ozai had been one for emotional outbursts, he would have been on the training grounds, annihilating targets and opponents. Instead, he spent time thinking, wasting time that could have been spent sleeping or working.

It had been a very long time since an idea, a concept, had escaped him like this. He had tried sorting it out, but there were so many 'why's, and just as many 'what's, why is she doing that, what is she feeling... with 'weakness' no longer being an option, it was enough to drive a man insane.

"Ouch!" Zuko yelped, and if the show hadn't ended right there and then, Ozai thought he might have ended it anyway.

"I told you two to behave," he said, tone heavy with disapproval. Zuko shrank back, and Azula looked down. "I will take you both right back home if you can not behave."

"Don't mumble," he said, in answer to their replies.

* * *

><p>It took some time before the children started asking for things, or talking at all, simply following Ozai around until something they wanted badly enough caught their attention.<p>

"Father?" Azula asked. "May we have fireflakes?"

"Yes," Ozai said, deciding they had behaved well enough since the circus ended. Besides, it had been a while since breakfast. Even he was starting to get hungry now.

"Yes," Zuko cheered.

* * *

><p>The storyteller turned out to be far more entertaining than the circus. The story was an old one, but the teller had a compelling voice. The fact that he was a firebender with a high level of skill when it came to details didn't hurt. He made princesses, and dragons, and lords and ladies.<p>

Both children were paying rapt attention. It was a relief after the ups and downs of the last few hours. Admittedly, things weren't going as badly as he'd feared, but it certainly wasn't the peaceful, less tense atmosphere they had when Ursa came along.

He missed her. He had thought it would be hard, dealing with Zuko, but it seemed that, outside of teaching and training, he had no connection with Azula. Her wishes seemed as bizarre as Zuko's, even if he felt more inclined to grant them.

He still hadn't done so. Favoring Azula was one thing, it made sense considering their respective levels of skill and knowledge. Blatant favoritism was something else entirely.

Ozai wasn't looking forward to the end of the story. It meant dealing with the two again, needs and want, and... when was the last time he'd actually spent time with his children, alone, without there being a lesson of some kind involved?

He couldn't remember.

* * *

><p>The sun was sinking, and the two had started bickering again, over absolutely <em>nothing<em>, whining and shoving each other. Ozai had been forced to separate them, glaring both into silence.

"We are going home," he finally said. No amount of pleading made him change his mind.

* * *

><p>"Well?" Ursa said, looking patient. There was tea ready on the table.<p>

Clearly, she had already spoken with the children. "Not well, I believe. They fought, they whined, Zuko cried, Azula sulked..." he sat down with a sigh. "I am sorry, my wife."

"Hmm," she said. Not entirely happy. Not upset either. "Honestly? It went better than I expected. It seems they had a mostly good time, even if there was no souvenirs."

"Things that fall apart as soon as you look at them," Ozai said.

"Right," Ursa said. "While I don't entirely disagree with you, that's not the point. It's part of the fun."

"Right," Ozai repeated back her her, with the same amount of skepticism.

She sat the cup down hard. "You should have brought them back home earlier. It would have saved you much trouble if you had noticed that they were getting tired."

He had nothing to say to that.

She sighed. "It wasn't a disaster."


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. This is written for fun only.

* * *

><p>Iroh was feeling rather pleased with how the negotiations were going. Slow, yes, hindered by suspicions, righteous anger, people playing for power. But they were going forward. Letter by letter, the people in charge were adapting to the idea of peace.<p>

Even so, it was frustrating, and he needed to let off some steam. The training grounds were almost empty, the only one there... well, that could be interesting.

Ozai didn't look up, apparently not noticing him at all. Iroh didn't buy it for a second, but allowed his brother to practice in peace. For now. Until Iroh had finished his warm ups.

Iroh moved through his katas, practically flowing through the familiar movements. He could do with some improvement, the constant sitting down hadn't done wonders for his flexibility. He should do some stretches every morning, and evenings, but it was hard to find the time.

Allowing himself to stop thinking for a while was precisely what he needed.

He turned, and did definitely not smirk as Ozai did the same, so that they ended up face to face.

"Ah, brother," Iroh said enthusiastically. "I hope you will join me for a spar?"

Ozai's eyes narrowed, just a little bit, the move he hadn't yet completed was aborted quickly, his stance becoming defensive.

Unusual for Ozai, but Iroh took that as a yes.

He had to attack first.

Iroh nearly didn't, upon realizing that. Ozai always, always attacked first. Even when he was younger, when it would have been better not to, he attacked first.

Admittedly, he usually won.

Ozai dodged, sidestepping easily, and lashed out. Fire erupted from his fist, more flash than substance. Not enough to force Iroh back more than half a step, barely enough to allow Ozai to move back, and prepare for the next attack.

Not Ozai's usual style. Iroh would have sighed, Realizing that Ozai was still wary of him. It was disheartening, he had tried...

He had tried. And Ozai, as usual, didn't listen. Perhaps understandable, but for all the blame that could be laid at Azulon's feet, at some point Ozai had to wake up and see the truth. Iroh couldn't walk around like the floor would break forever.

A quick step backwards, a bursts of flame forcing Ozai to the right, and Iroh moved forward. A low kick, and Ozai was forced back several steps to avoid falling. The flash of irritation on his face was just the encouragement Iroh needed to continue the game.

The next attack was blocked, the fire stolen and returned at twice the power.

Iroh was forced to dodge out of sheer surprise. Yes, it had been a while since they last sparred, but the amount of power he could feel in that attack was not what he remembered.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he murmured. If he could get closer, that would make things easier for him. Ozai despised direct hand to hand, much preferring the distance bending created.

So it was no surprise that Ozai didn't let him, dancing out of reach every time he tried, dodging or blocking his blows.

At least some things didn't change.

The training grounds only had so much room, however. At least they did if you stayed within the drawn lines. It wasn't that unusual to slip outside of them, accidentally, but here Ozai's pride would work to Iroh's favor.

Forcing Ozai into a corner turned out to be less easy than he thought. His brother's skill, and power had grown greatly.

Ozai had always been a perfectionist.

It really was a shame he had never been part of a battlefield, where things like the wind could turn a battle around.

Iroh feinted left, Ozai didn't didn't fall for it, but he wasn't supposed to. He was just supposed to watch Iroh's hands.

Iroh's foot trailed a line of fire along the ground, in a half circle out toward Ozai. The dust he kicked up was the bonus Iroh aimed for. Ozai was forced back towards the line, his heels brushing it.

Another might have forced him across it. Iroh closed in, aiming a punch to Ozai's midsection. Ozai blocked, barely. He did manage to force Iroh's hand aside, but it wasn't enough. Iroh's other hand shot out, grabbing Ozai's wrist, twisting it, forcing him to move as Iroh wanted or break it.

Ozai went down. Not easily, the blast of fire from his free hand almost forced Iroh to let go. It would have been the smart thing to do, if they were sincerely aiming to kill each other. Since they weren't he blocked it, dispersing the flames.

"A good fight, brother," Iroh smiled pleasantly, part him of enjoying the confusion he knew Ozai was feeling. Training accidents happened, after all.

A different part of him simply wanted another spar, with someone who could and would put up more than a decent fight.

"Yes," Ozai finally said, not even out of breath. "A good spar."

Iroh pulled him to his feet. "I will want another, later. Right now, I believe your lovely wife and children are waiting for us with dinner."

Ozai nodded slowly, a bit too casually brushing dust off his clothing.

Sometimes, Iroh wondered what it would be like to simply grab his brother, and shake him. Hard. Like he had when Ozai was a child. A shame Ozai had grown taller than him. It made it rather difficult to do so.

* * *

><p>Zuko was a bundle of nervous energy. Azula behaved perfectly.<p>

Sometimes, even Iroh wondered how the two could be siblings. The meal had been pleasant enough, and he did not mind watching them when matters of the house had called away their parents. He enjoyed spending time with his niece and nephew.

Iroh merely preferred to spend time with them separately. Together, they had a tendency to bicker, and try to one up each other, with Zuko invariably losing. That, he had learned quickly.

This time, however, and much to his relief, Azula had a late training session. She made her excuses, and left, leaving the bundle of nervous energy behind with him.

"Nephew," Iroh waved him over. "I've spent far too much time tending to my duties lately. Tell me, how are you these days?"

"Fine. I guess," Zuko said, tense.

Iroh frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"Uncle?" Zuko hesitated. "What's going on? Everyone is acting weird."

"Weird? How?" Iroh had some suspicions to how, but he would not give advice without being sure.

"Dad's trying to be nice. Mom's angry at him, but she keeps saying that everything will be fine. Azula's angry too, and no one's telling me why!" small fists slammed down on the table, leaving weak black marks on it. "Is this because of what grandfather said?That thing..."

"Nephew..." how to say this? It was connected, certainly, but at the same time, it no longer had anything to do with that, beyond Ozai's epiphany. "Your father... have discovered some things about himself that he is not very happy with. Your mother is trying to help him, but I am sure you can agree he is not easy to help."

He tried to make the last remark be a light hearted joke, but Zuko frowned at him.

"Don't talk about dad like that," he said, with all the insulted pride of a young boy.

"My apologies," Iroh said, nodding gravely. "The matter is an adult one, and I can not tell you more. You will have to ask your parents."

"But I did!" Zuko's outburst seemed to surprise even him. "I asked dad. He said I should listen to mom, but Azula knows. So why can't I?"

So that was the problem. And there was very little Iroh could do to help. He couldn't tell Zuko anything, it had to be explained by his parents. Who seemed to prefer to let their daughter know, but not their son.

Iroh doubted Ursa would have done that. Ozai on the other hand... Yes, shaking his brother was a very tempting idea.

"I'm sorry, Zuko," he said, not letting his thoughts show. "I can't tell you."

Zuko looked dejected enough for Iroh to feel sorry for him. He'd always had a soft spot for the boy, being the only one of his brother's children he could claim to know. Azula had been too young.

"Zuko," he said. "I need you to listen to me."

"Fine," was the rather sullen reply.

The palace was as quiet as it ever were. Iroh sat still, and waited, listening to make sure no one else could overhear. He could practically feel Zuko's impatience. His nephew wasn't one to let things go easily, not when he'd set his sight on it.

"The world is changing," he finally said. "And we must change with it."

The barely audible groan made him grin.

"I just want to know what's going on," Zuko said.

"It's up to your parents to explain, if they wish to do so. Sometimes, parents will not tell you everything. It might be private. It might be something you're too young to understand. It might be something you're better off not knowing," Iroh explained.

Or all of the above.

He leaned over the table, and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It will be fine. Trust your mother. She is rarely wrong."

"But dad..." Zuko sighed, fists clenching. "I don't like this."

Iroh no longer wanted to shake his brother. He wanted to strangle him. Had he really neglected his son to the point where being given attention and care was enough to knock Zuko so off balance?

He took a breath. Zuko was young, and from what he could tell, no harm had been done. There was time to fix this. Ozai had time to fix this, and he would. Ursa would accept no less, and neither would Iroh.

There might be a thing or two he could do as well.

"Let's go train," Iroh stood, and stretched. A short session with his nephew wouldn't hurt his schedule. "I am looking forward to see what you have learned while I've been gone. Go change."

Zuko lit up like the sun, and jumped to his feet. He ran from the room, still grinning.

Iroh chuckled, and followed at a more sedate pace.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. This is written for fun only.

**Author's Note:** This was supposed to go in the previous chapter. Sorry. But, as you've probably noticed, I changed the title. The old one fit the idea I originally had, but not what this story turned into. Therefore, new title.

* * *

><p>The day was a pleasantly warm one, the kind that made you want to do absolutely nothing, which seemed to be precisely what Azula was doing. Ursa smiled at the sight. It was the first time in days she had seen Azula relax properly.<p>

Which did make her feel vaguely guilty over disturbing her. If Ursa didn't think it had to be done, and that this was the best opportunity, she might have left her alone. Unfortunately, someone needed to speak with the girl, and Ursa was going to be the one to do it.

Ozai had offered, but Ursa had talked him out of it. She would never say it, but Azula did not need his advice right now. It would be the right thing to cheer her up, and bring her back to 'normal'. And in the long run, it might do severe damage.

And, somewhere in that dark part of her soul, Ursa thoroughly enjoyed watching him struggle with being Zuko's father. Zuko might be confused by the entire thing, but this was for the best, and she would talk with him later. If things got too bad, she was still nearby.

"Azula," she said, kneeling down next to her. "I will have a word with you."

She kept herself from frowning at the formality. That... was not a promising start. Was she that out of touch with her daughter? That they could not even speak normally to each other?

"What is is, mother?" Azula blinked up at her, tension returning to her body.

"How are you feeling?" Ursa asked honestly.

"Wha-" Azula sat up, blinking at her, the surprise clear on her face for almost a second before she closed off again. "I am fine, mother."

"Really?" Ursa just looked at her. "You have been behaving oddly lately. You have been rude. Yelling at your father. And you are fine?"

She deliberately left out Azula's behaviour towards her. That would only make her defensive, and that was not going to help.

"This has been a difficult time for all of us, mother," Azula smiled, perfectly and false. "I have merely been trying to adjust."

How long had Azula spoken like an adult? Ursa felt like she had missed something important, somewhere along the line.

"It has nothing to do with you father disappointing you?"

That got an reaction, narrowed eyes, closed fists. Ursa met her gaze, and held it until Azula looked away. Looked down.

"Father does hat he thinks is best," Azula said, aiming for casual and failing.

"He does," Ursa reached out, and put her hand on her shoulder. Azula didn't look at her, but she didn't try to move away. "For all of us."

"He quit," Azula hissed. "He _quit_, he gave everything to Iroh, he ch-"

She stopped talking, and Ursa decided to take a chance. She reached out, and pulled Azula close, refusing to let go when Azula tensed. Of all the things she should be grateful for in this mess, Azula being so young was the one she sincerely thanked the spirits for. She could heal. She would heal.

"He made the right choice," Ursa said quietly. "It might not make sense now, but it will. It might seem like he is not himself, but he is."

"He choose Zuko," Azula whispered, so low she could barely hear it even sitting right next to her.

Ursa closed her eyes. She would not strangle her husband. She would not blame herself.

"He chose all of us. Do you think he would have let you suffer? Me?"

"He loves you," Azula said, sounding a bit choked. "'Sides, I'm the youngest. I'm the girl. Girls don't get to be Fire Lord."

Oh.

_Oh._

"Oh, child," Ursa hugged her closer. "No, no, no."

They should have talked earlier. Even if the only reason Azula was talking now was that she had been left alone to think, left alone with part of her world turned on its head and every dark thought she had. They should have talked earlier.

"No," she repeated again. "I swear to you that he would never have agreed to that. Never."

That, at least, she could be sure of. Ozai would not have sacrificed Azula. Never. He had said no to sacrificing Zuko, had murdered Azulon, and thrown himself at Iroh's mercy to keep him safe. _Tha_t guaranteed Azula's safety like _nothing_ else in the world could.

It was an odd time to think of it, but she truly had a brilliant daughter, to have considered all of that. And a young one, to have ignored the obvious because of her fears.

"And I would never have allowed it," Ursa muttered harshly. "If he had tried, I would have burned him to ashes."

"... Really?" Azula asked quietly. Ursa ignored the half sob in her voice, for Azula's sake. She got embarrassed so easily when she felt weak, and if she withdrew now... Ursa was not going to lose her.

"You are my daughter," Ursa said. "I love you. I would, without hesitating."

"Oh," Azula relaxed. A little bit.

* * *

><p>"You're angry," Ozai said. He'd stopped in the middle of her chambers, looking tired. For once she felt no sympathy for him. He didn't deserve it, not right now.<p>

She wasn't sure that she deserved any either.

"We forgot Azula," Ursa finally said. "We forgot that she is a child. She's so clever, so quick to understand that we thought she understood all of this."

Ozai looked considering. Confused. "I explained things to her."

"I'm sure you did," Ursa said flatly. "The practical reasons. Not the reasons she needed to hear. She's a child, Ozai. Your practical reasons may have made sense, but they were not what she needed to hear."

He walked over to her, carefully putting his arms around her. She didn't think he'd been that careful since the beginning of their marriage, when they were both unsure of what the other would accept, what was right for them.

Ozai didn't say anything, but this time, he would have to speak first. She didn't think she could hold her temper if she had to lead this conversation. Ursa wasn't entirely sure who she was the most angry with, him or herself.

If she wanted to be cruel, she could easily put the blame on him. Ozai would accept it, might even understand it, but... that wasn't her. If it had been, she wouldn't be here. If another had been in her situation, at the beginning of this, Ursa might have told her to do walk away, for her own good. For the children's own good.

But that wasn't her. She had made her decision, and she would see it through.

"I take it my approach failed to console her, and would do so again," Ozai said, sounding like he was thinking about every word, before he said them out loud. "Ursa. What did she say?"

As she explained, his arms tightened around her. She didn't look at him while she talked.

"I didn't realize," he said, sounding oddly defeated. "She has not been quite herself lately, but none of us have. I thought she was adapting."

"I have talked with her," Ursa stepped out of the embrace. "But I am not the parent she listens to."

It hurt to admit.

"Zuko worships the ground you walk on," Ursa tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "And Azula-"

"They care for you," Ozai met her eyes squarely. "Zuko would choose you over me. I've realized that. And Azula cares. I know my daughter. If she didn't, why would she talk to you now?"

"Because she is a frightened little girl who needed someone to talk to!" Ursa's outburst surprised even herself.

"Azula would not talk unless she wanted to," Ozai insisted.

The role reversal was new. Until now, she had been the encouraging one, the positive one in the mess their family had become. She had thought things were improving. Zuko and Ozai's relationship had improved. Her's and Ozai's had as well. Even their friendship with Iroh had become a better one.

And in the middle of that, they had ignored Azula.

"I... We will speak with her," Ozai continued. "We will. Where is she now?"

"In her room. I walked her there," she said. "She was exhausted."

Ozai breathed out slowly, as if he was as worried as she was.

"Later then. Later, I will speak with her."

"Yes," Ursa agreed.


	7. Chapter 7

So... is there any very, very, very patient people still reading this?

* * *

><p>He almost postponed talking to Azula. Not because he didn't want to talk to her, he did want to fix this, to repair the damage he had caused in his youngest.<p>

Even now, his favourite. Though, he apparently shouldn't have favorites.

It was just that... Ozai wasn't sure how. Azula had never needed extra reassurance before, she had always understood that he said only what he meant to her.

Ozai knocked on the door to her room, before opening the door and walking in. Azula was sitting on her bed, with what he thought was a school book.

Not one children her age usually studied. He let the pride show, smiling at her.

Her answering smile wasn't quite as bright as it used to be.

"Mother sent you," Azula guessed.

Another time, he would have been insulted by the assumption. Now, he just nodded.

"I am fine," she continued. "It was a... lapse."

He nodded again, noting the pause. She rarely did that these days, but while Azula learned to speak, she often stopped mid-sentence, rather than mispronounce a word, or use the wrong one.

"She thinks we should talk," Ozai said, before Azula could make more excuses. "I agree."

He sat down next to her, wondering where to start. No, he knew where to start, but not how to make it sound like a fact, and not an accusation.

"You told me you understood my reasoning," he said finally. At least she'd know what he was talking about without any explanation.

"I did. Do," Azula said, brushing the few strands of her hair that tended to get loose out of her eyes.

"Then why did you think I was choosing Zuko over you?" Ozai nearly winced. That might have been a bit blunt.

But this was Azula, who took almost everything he said for what he meant it to be, and not what it sometimes sounded like. In this case, just a question.

"I'm the girl. Born second," she said, and now her voice dropped. "It makes sense..."

"Stop," he could follow her train of thought there, but it was wrong. "I do not care. When I choose an heir, it will be based on skill. Not age, not gender. "

Neither of them said it, but any comparison between Zuko and Azula would end in Azula's

favour.

She brightened, just a little. But he hadn't reached her yet. There had to be something to make her understand, something that wouldn't be him talking down to her, or...

Hmm. That could work.

"If asked to choose who would live, your mother or me, who would you choose?"

Azula straightened, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

Probably the way he had looked at Azulon. Ozai nearly smiled at that. Dark humour was a nice thing to have, occasionally.

"That's impossible," Azula said angrily. "It's a stupid question, you are my father, and mother is my mother. I can't choose."

"And Zuko is my son, and you are my daughter," Ozai said firmly. "There is no choice there, not in something like this."

Azula looked away. "It's... I don't know. It feels wrong."

Ozai paused. Thought. Azula almost never brought up what she felt, having learned early on that he wanted actual reasons. So now that she did, she was telling him she knew it didn't make sense, that she had no reasons for thinking as she did.

Finally, he said. "As your father, have I ever lied to you? Guided you wrong?"

He absolutely had, and was starting to realize how badly. But she didn't, and now Ozai was relying on that.

"No," she said firmly. All faith.

"Then trust me on this," Ozai reached out and stroked her hair, just once. "It was not a slight to you, because there was never a choice. You are my daughter, and your skills are superior to your brother."

"Yes," she agreed. "Maybe I should teach him a few tricks? Just to be nice to my clumsy brother. At least that way he can start impressing Mai, instead of embarrassing her."

"Certainly," Ozai said, deciding not to dwell on that. It was something to save for later. "Now I will leave you to your studies."

"Thank you, father."

* * *

><p>He wasn't sure what possessed him to go see Zuko right then. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd even made a decision until he was standing there, watching the boy stumble through a routine Azula had mastered weeks ago.<p>

With no one there to correct him, he seemed to do worse at every try, frustration getting the best of him.

Ozai felt much the same way he had done just a little earlier, trying to find the words to explain to Azula. He hadn't bothered to identify them then, but now... it reminded him of certain arguments with Ursa.

Like he needed to do something to solve the problem.

Azula had needed a different reassurance than she normally did. Zuko... a different way to approach criticism?

Normally, he'd point out what the boy did wrong, and then explain how to do it right.

"Zuko," Ozai called out, demanding the boy's attention.

Maybe...

He walked over, stopping before he reached Zuko.

"Please pay attention to how I move my feet," he said, and slowly went through the correct movement, slowing down even further at the point where Zuko always lost his balance.

Zuko paid attention, apparently too surprised to even speak.

Zuko's next try wasn't anywhere near perfect, but Ozai could see the improvement. He smiled at the boy, who was clearly thrilled, and bit back all the things he knew wouldn't help. Not Zuko.

"Try again," he said, motioning for Zuko to do so.

If nothing else, the boy did deserve credit for not giving up.


End file.
